


Come On, Bucky Said. We've Got Another Super Soldier To Find.

by TilTheEndOfTheLinePal



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Face Slapping, Fainting, French Kissing, Hair Pulling, Heavy Petting, Hydra (Marvel), Neck Kissing, Orgasm, Shameless Smut, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2639009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TilTheEndOfTheLinePal/pseuds/TilTheEndOfTheLinePal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Transitional piece between two stories called "I Will Find You Again. I Promise" and "You Ready? I'll Take That Weapon Now," which are co-authored by Sprocketgasmask and TilTheEndOfTheLinePal.  On the run from HYDRA and train-hopping from Georgia to Washington, D.C., Murphy (OFC) and Bucky Barnes manage to find the time to eat at a local Tennessee restaurant.  Bucky has a rather difficult time keeping his hands to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come On, Bucky Said. We've Got Another Super Soldier To Find.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sprocketgasmask](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sprocketgasmask/gifts).



> Written for my best girl, Sprocketgasmask, on the occasion of her 28th birthday. Happy birthday, doll. Your Bucky Bear loves you very much.

Come On, Bucky Said. We’ve Got Another Super Soldier To Find.  
by TilTheEndOfTheLinePal  
11/18/2014

Bucky Barnes' eyes focused everywhere else except on the woman sitting across from him in a booth in a terribly rundown pizza joint in the middle of nowhere. No, more precisely - embedded somewhere in the back roads of Tennessee. The trained KGB/HYDRA assassin noticed *everything*, from the scuffed laminate floor that had definitely seen better days to the cheap knock-off perfume the lone waitress was wearing to the fact that the sleazy male manager had just pocketed a twenty dollar bill from the cash register. 

"Relax, Buck..." Murphy said as gently as she could, though she was clearly irritated. 

Bucky hid his metal hand as the waitress approached to ask if they needed 'pop' refills. He held that metal hand of his against the waist of his dark blue jeans so tightly he made his own eyes water a little. Holy fucking hell, though, The Winter Soldier had offed dozens of dignitaries, but a simple Tennessee back-woods waitress was getting under his skin. Apparently, everyone was secretly a HYDRA agent. And, of course, all HYDRA agents were looking for the soldier, who had figuratively given Brock Rumlow - Crossbones himself - the middle finger before taking flight and abandoning his mission to assassinate Captain America. 

As soon as the waitress mercifully left, Bucky shot Murphy an incredulous look. "Don't call me 'Buck'. Don't call me anything. Alright? We shouldn't even be in here..." 

It had been an uncharacteristically hot day, temperatures soaring close to 100, and awfully humid. Murphy and Bucky had been train-hopping for days and, having had little real sleep and even less food, Murphy was justifiably upset at Bucky's short fuse. She opened her mouth to fire back a fiery retort, something deliciously sarcastic and hurtful, but she managed to reign in her emotions. 

Instead of saying anything, Murphy earned her revenge by standing, moving to the other side of the dilapidated booth, and pushing Sergeant Barnes over to sit right next to him, hip to hip and thigh to thigh. As if that wasn't horrible enough, Murphy grasped an ice cube between her thumb and forefinger and began to trail it under Bucky's long brown hair and over the back of his neck. 

Bucky's eyes rolled back a little and fluttered closed. His mind involuntarily shot back to faded memories of long, cold Russian winters. Blinding blizzards, days hunkered down in snow forts, huddled close to his long-range sniper rifle. Unable to suppress a deep moan, Bucky pushed aside his unfinished food, which he had barely touched, and rested his forehead down upon the smooth, fake wood table. 

Though there was no real need to whisper - the restaurant was currently void of other patrons - Murphy still mumbled lowly, "You're okay, Bu... Sarge. I'm pretty sure they're not going to look for you at Marco's Pizza, of all places." 

Broad shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh. "They're lookin' for you, too, doll," Bucky mumbled in response before slowly sitting up again, the ice cube having rapidly melted away against his abnormally warm skin. Truly, a normal human couldn't have maintained such a high temperature without being severely ill. Being a super soldier brought strange side effects. 

Half-closed blue eyes shifted over Murphy's body as Bucky quickly assessed her appearance and body language. Even though Murphy constantly promoted an air of confidence, she was still rather stiff and rigid. "You scared?" Bucky asked, though his voice carried no sarcasm or accusation. The Winter Soldier was being uncharacteristically caring. 

Murphy avoided his question like the plague. Shifting in her seat, she began to fumble in her jean shorts pocket for a pack of Marlboros. "I need a fuckin' smoke," she stated matter-of-factly in her characteristic Georgian drawl as she began to rise from her seat. "You got all the money. Pay the bill, will ya?"

Bucky's metal hand shot from its hiding place at his right hip as he harshly grabbed the back of the waist of Murphy's jean shorts, pulling her back down to sit again. Sergeant Barnes leaned forward and planted a heavy, deep kiss on Murphy's lips, which had parted in shock. Bucky moaned a little too loudly as he tasted an intoxicating, odd mix of Dr. Pepper and cigarettes. Murphy didn't even close her eyes as she sort of returned the lustful kiss.

After a long moment, Murphy pulled back and stared at Bucky, who was already breathing hot and heavy. "You're a fuckin' horn dog, ya know? Jesus Christ... Control yourself..." she barked, clearly trying to discipline the soldier.

"You fuckin' drive me crazy, bitch..." muttered Bucky as his normal hand pulled at the front of Murphy's button-up plaid shirt.

As Bucky tried to steal first base yet again, Murphy fired back and slapped the super soldier right across the face. It was a violent, harsh slap - Murphy was one tough southern girl and she wasn't afraid to tell anyone exactly what she was thinking. And, if that required a little violence, then so be it.

"I ain't nobody's bitch," Murphy growled.

Laughing was an extremely rare occurrence for The Winter Soldier. Though his laugh sounded remarkably on the wicked side, his eyes seemed genuinely amused. "Alright," he said gently, fully acknowledging and accepting what Murphy had said. He carefully wrapped his metal arm around Murphy's waist and rested his head down upon her right shoulder as an act of submission. 

At first, Murphy rolled her eyes in disgust, but then she slowly relaxed. In that fleeting moment, The Winter Soldier seemed like a lost little puppy. Though her body began screaming for a nicotine fix, Murphy managed to ignore that for a moment and tenderly ran her left hand under Bucky's striped long-sleeved shirt and white undershirt. It was interesting that the soldier did not flinch as her fingertips trailed over his ribcage. What - super soldiers weren't ticklish?

"Jesus Christ, soldier," Murphy began, noting Bucky's ribs, "You need to fuckin' eat already. What good are you gunna be if you faint while running to catch the next train? Huh?"

Bucky heard her, but he chose to ignore that obvious statement. The absolute truth was that, as a frequent abuser of Ketamine, he had developed a decent state of anorexia. But, men didn't talk about such things. Especially men from the 1940s. It would all catch up to him sooner or later.

Reality was no fun to deal with, so Bucky mindlessly began to kiss at Murphy's neck, each kiss becoming progressively more erotic. As time seemed to reach an odd standstill, Bucky began to bite at Murphy's neck. At first, he just trailed his teeth against her skin, but soon he was giving her fairly painful bites in between long, hot kisses, his tongue generously tasting her.

Her eyes closed, Murphy muttered a, "Fuck you," as her breath caught in her chest.

"Uh huh..." Bucky responded sarcastically, easing his normal hand along the inside of Murphy's thigh, deftly parting her legs underneath the table. He worked his lips up to his girlfriend's ear. He began talking again, but purposefully spoke in flawless Russian, his mouth right against Murphy's ear, his breaths borderline uncomfortably hot.

"Fuckin' speak English, goddammit," Murphy uttered breathlessly, shifting in her seat. Though her words were harsh and cold, her body definitely betrayed her. She was overwhelmingly excited - the mix of pain and pleasure was becoming almost too much to bear.

Though the Russian dialect never seemed terribly romantic, the soldier's husky voice continued as he described to Murphy, in great detail, exactly what he wanted to do to her, right then and there. Bucky knew full well that Murphy didn't understand Russian and chose to hide behind the language barrier. There was no way he could have spoken his dirty mind freely in his native tongue. As he spoke, Bucky somehow managed to unbutton and unzip Murphy's jean shorts with his one normal hand. It wasn't easy, by any means.

Murphy briefly glanced around the restaurant, wondering if anyone was watching. The coast seemed clear for the moment. She blushed furiously as Sergeant Barnes pressed warm fingertips against her center, increasingly applying more pressure and exploring her folds. Murphy could actually feel Bucky’s smile against her neck and continued to blush, fully noting that she had been going commando that day. 

“A-are you enjoying yourself?” Murphy stammered sarcastically. 

Bucky mumbled a “Mmhmm” before beginning a new Russian monologue. He might have been reciting poetry, for all Murphy knew – it certainly sounded like it, given the cadence and sound of his deep, dark voice. 

Pretty much losing it, Murphy tried to control her breathing and did manage to suppress a pleasurable moan, uncomfortably aware of just how very turned on she was, how amazing Bucky’s fingers felt, how warm he was, even how good he still managed to smell after days of running from HYDRA. 

“Who t-taught you how to do that, huh?” Murphy panted. “Did you learn that in the Army?” She managed to laugh a little, though she was dangerously close to an orgasm. 

In turn, Bucky growled and bit between Murphy’s shoulder and neck, all the while never stopping dirtily feeling her up. 

“Oh, god, Buck… Oh, my god!” Murphy exclaimed, her eyes squeezed shut. As an intense wave of pleasure washed over her body, she didn’t give a moment’s thought to grabbing a thick handful of Bucky’s long hair and yanking as hard as she could. She had to hold onto *something* as she rode out an overwhelming, long-overdue climax. Little sparks of white light clouded her vision for a short while. 

A little gasp of surprise fell from her lips as Murphy felt The Winter Soldier’s body go utterly limp against her. Suddenly, the super soldier seemed extraordinarily heavy as his head fell hard onto her right shoulder. 

Curious, Murphy shifted a little to look at Bucky. His eyes were still mostly open, but it was blatantly obvious that nobody was home. It was an extremely odd sensation for Murphy, to go from experiencing a very hot orgasm to suddenly laughing up a storm. 

Though the soldier was out cold and could not hear her, Murphy still asked, “Did you just faint? Oh, my god, hoss… That is so fucking funny!” She threw her head back and laughed, highly amused. 

“Here’s your check,” the Tennessee waitress said, placing a receipt upon the table. Noticing the passed-out soldier, she asked, concerned, “Is he alright?” 

A small wave of panic coursing through her body, Murphy rapidly pulled her jean shorts closed again. “Uh…” It was a rather rare occurrence for that southern girl to blush. “Yes. Yes, he’s fine. Thanks…” 

“My brother has diabetes,” the waitress began solemnly. “He should get his blood sugar checked.” 

“Mm… Yep.” Murphy stammered. “Thanks again. He’ll be fine.” She managed to flash the waitress a million dollar smile. 

Moments after the waitress reluctantly walked away, Bucky took in a deep breath finally, sat up again, and ran his metal hand over his hair before nonchalantly reaching for the leather wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. Murphy began a new round of hysterical laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” Bucky asked suspiciously, absolutely unaware that he had fainted seconds after he, too, had had a great orgasm. He began to carefully count out some cash. 

“Nothing,” Murphy managed to declare, trying to control herself. She selected one cigarette from her pack and stood up from the restaurant booth. 

Having left a generous tip for the waitress, Bucky trailed after Murphy and slapped her ass as they made their way towards the exit. 

“Come on,” Bucky said. “We’ve got another super soldier to find.”


End file.
